


Luck of the Draw

by Memory25



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe-ish, Don't Have to Know Canon, Gen, I Don't Even Know Canon, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Somewhat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9499046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memory25/pseuds/Memory25
Summary: The circumstances of your visit to a different world is basically dependent on two things: your own capability and/or whether the first person you meet is friend or foe. The first can't be helped, while the second, well. How lucky are you? OC-insert not very much MC interaction. Yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I left this in my computer for 5 years before I dug it up in a bid to generate some juice to progress the story. I have all of 2 chapters and Idk. I like this story, but I'm a crap dueler and I don't even want to bother with anything 2nd gen and up. Ancient Egypt is fine but please no synchro whatever cards. If anybody knows if I'm using out-of-generation cards please let me know, otherwise just pretend I know what I'm talking about. 
> 
> So far, though, there won't be much dueling until a bit later. So. Wish me luck?

The first time I looked around, it looked almost exactly like Japan. The buildings were similar, the Kanji was familiar, even the people walking about in strange, cosplay-like clothes were not out of place.

I thought I had been kidnapped. And then somehow deposited in Japan in the middle of a busy street, with nothing on me except the clothes on my back. Which, come to think of it, were rather baggy and loose.

And where were my shoes?

I rolled up my left sleeve and stared. I held out my hand. I wiggled my fingers. I put the palm so close to my face I went cross-eyed.

My ‘hand’ was _chibi_. Like the kind of _chibi_ in anime, where the supposedly normal-looking character became more akin to an overly round plush toy. Or, in other words, like the tiny hands of an infant. Give or take a year or two.

I stared.

Of course, life couldn’t give me a moment to freak out in peace. I had to get nearly run over by a crazy guy mid-body-examination.

“What the @#$% are you doing? Can’t you @#$% see in front of your @#$% face?!” Was what came out of my mouth in that moment of bewilderment, frustration, and the beginning stages of panic.

And what do you know, _every single person_ on the street turned as one to stare at us.

So what did the crazy guy do? He _picked me up and continued running._

“#$%&asdfghjkl!!!!!!!!”

Half the reason why I was screaming was, of course, because this guy had _freaking kidnapped me_. The other half was because _he had picked me up with only one arm._ I was tucked in the crook of it _and I actually fit in it._

See what happens when you interrupt my freak-out?

I screamed _all the way_ down the twisted rabbit hole he was dragging me into like a dizzying vortex of high velocity and extreme flexibility. (Some of the movements he made resembled the stuff I saw in a circus once. And even then, they didn’t have a wriggling, caterwauling midget doing her best to unstick herself from their hold.)

And then, when he finally ducked into this dingy little shop filled with boxes and moldy old newspapers and out the backdoor to a dark little alleyway, he crouched down and covered my face with his ( _huge, why the fuck is it so big)_ hand. I stopped screaming, but only because the contact had reminded me that I needed to breathe.

“Wow, you have really good lungs, don’t you?” The stranger chuckled softly, even as he tightened his hand over my face (he was covering my _eyes_ as well with that one hand what the _fuck_ ).

In the silence that followed, I could hear the footsteps and voices that had chased us. It wasn’t too large a step to assume that he was being pursued by a group of people for some reason. Behind long fingers, I squeezed my eyes shut to stop tears from flowing. I held the sniff back, because it was also probably a safe assumption that I would _not_ like it if the chasers caught us. I’d become either a hostage or a punching bag. With my ( _yes,_ _damnit!_ I fucking realized!) child’s body, I wouldn’t survive either.

It was a long, uncomfortable time before the voices faded and my face was released. By that time, I was crying profusely, tears and snot dribbling down my face.

“Oh geez, _crap!_ I’m really really sorry, chibi-chan!” My kidnapper blubbered. I swallowed and rubbed my face with my sleeve.

Taking a deep breath, I turned around to face him.

He looked young, wide-eyed and _honest._ _Naïve,_ even. Large brown eyes, short spikey black hair, high cheek bones. He looked like one of those _bishounen_ in manga books.

My heart inwardly quavered.

Any manga-reader worth their salt would have read of the devious type with a face of an angel, and this guy had _kidnapped_ me without any hesitation _in the middle of a street._ There was no doubt that he had a flip-side to that innocent face.

Hence, the quavering.

Oh, and I haven’t missed the fact that he (and what I could see of myself) looked like a manga character.

_Hence, the quavering._

I was _this_ close to bursting into full-out bawling, held back by a thin thread of false calm and what little dignity I had left. I was confused, I was freaked out, I was _damned near terrified of this guy_ and my brain was leaping from idea to outrageous idea. I sniffled into my sleeve again.

Kidnapper-san flapped his hands frantically at me, “Oh crap! Oh geez! Please please please don’t be scared! I’m not going to hurt you, honest!”

I’d read far too much manga to be tricked by such an act, but I could feel myself start to, if not calm, then stabilize somewhat. At least he wasn’t going to attack me right this instant or he wouldn’t have bothered talking.

My eyes narrowed behind the too-big sleeve as I took the time I finally had to think and digest.

Actually, there was no point pretending to be an innocent kid. He’d already heard me swearing up a storm when he picked me up. I wanted to slap myself silly, but it wasn’t my fault I hadn’t gotten over the fact that I’d been chibified yet. I glared at the cloth in front of me.

Obviously, I’d been thinking for far too long, because the fake-squawking had died down and I could feel his eyes on me. I removed my hands and looked at him.

“What do you want with me?” I asked him hoarsely, even that little effort making my throat wince. Other than a slight break in the middle, it was completely toneless. I’d been emotionally wrung out.

He made a surprised face and beamed.

“Nothing!” He replied cheerfully, “I just picked you up ‘coz I was going to run into you!”

_Bullshit. I saw you step around me at the last moment before I started swearing. You picked me up **after** that._

I stared at him with a look of disbelief which soon flattened into a deadpan. Again, there was no use pretending and I simply didn’t have the energy for it. Manga-experience also informed me that there was no way I could trick characters like him.

True enough, the expression melted off his face after a while. The stark contrast would have been frightening if I had not been expecting it. Despite that, I could still feel chills run down my spine. I prayed I hadn’t run into a serial killer character or someone similar. Somehow, I doubted my luck.

“Are you going to kill me?” I blurted out, unable to stand the tension.

Abruptly, he peered at me through slit eyes and a wide, eerie smile. “Now why would I want to kill you, chibi?”

_Oh shit. Squinty-eyed character!!!!_

I forced myself to look him over, which he allowed in what was probably amusement. There were no weapons on him (that I could see), but his hands were large and looked rough. And here, I decided to use a piece of manga-information that I had picked up from reading many many different mangas. Particularly of the shounen martial arts genre.

_Ha! Whoever said you can’t learn anything from manga!_

Summoning a burst of courage, I took his hand in both of mine—ignoring the twitch—and felt the texture of the palm. As expected, they were covered in calluses. (I hadn’t realized it before due to panic) I ran my short(er) fingers over his knuckles—they twitched as well—and again, they were smooth and hard.

Knowing that my examination was answer enough, I looked up to stare at him dully. His eyes had opened again and he was staring at me with blatant curiosity. At that moment, he looked cuter than he did sinister.

_…Geez, what kind of character is this guy? PICK A TYPE DAMNIT!_

I shrugged helplessly at him. It wasn’t like I’d know why he’d want to kidnap me in the first place.

_I just hope he’s not a pedophile._

The hand I was holding lifted to my face and I widened my eyes in fear. His eyes narrowed into amused half-moons and suddenly he was pinching my cheeks with both hands.

_OW! Your hands are HARD DAMNIT!_

…And then I realized I’d said it out loud. Squeezing my eyes shut, I cringed, hands fisted at my sides and knees braced.

And then I heard him snicker.

It grew into full blown guffaws by the time I felt brave enough to open my eyes again. I wanted to smack him in the face, but fear stilled my hand. Instead of following the usual script of screaming at him and demanding what was so funny, I looked away and wiped the back of my hand over my, again, streaming eyes. Things were getting a bit much (okay, a _lot_ much) and I still hadn’t wrapped my head around what the _hell_ was going on.

And of course, this ‘out of pattern’ behavior caught his attention and stopped his outburst again. I wondered what he’d had done if I’d followed the ‘normal’ script. Maybe, continued on and laughed the whole thing off as a joke? Then may, just maybe, take me back to where he found me and leave me alone?

It was probably wishful thinking, but if there was a chance, I’d probably blown it.

“Will you let me go?” I asked from behind my hand, not wanting to stew in uncertainty anymore. I was confused enough and there was only so much stress I could take before I had a psychotic and suicidal breakdown.

“That depends, Chibi,” he drawled, switching again into sly-faced-squint mode, “Do you have a home to be returned to?”

_…Well, that’s torn it._

“…No.” was my squeaky reply. I slumped, but refused to look up from the back of my palm. Even highly-stressed, my brain was working furiously enough to know that it was futile to hope that he would really leave me alone unless I produced solid evidence of a ‘home’—and that was _without_ taking into account the unusual interest he had in me. Helplessness was creeping up on me and the consequences of my situation were slowly trickling into my awareness.

I’d read enough “sent to another world/universe” fanfiction to know _exactly_ what I would be dealing with.

Precisely _which_ manga I’d been sent to had yet to be determined, but I wasn’t stupid enough to assume that I was a Mary-Sue. At best, I’d be one of those semi-important people who’d matter enough to the plot to stay alive.

At worst, cannon-fodder.

Actually no. At worst, I could be an intruder and the plot would try its best to do me in.

“Then, no.” Came the quick, nonchalant reply. I pressed my hand harder into my face to muffle the pained noise that left my lips.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” I whispered, feeling my voice catch and more tears trickling down my cheeks. It was the most I had ever cried in my entire life and I was not proud of how leaky I was being.

Worse still, my mind was being its typical horrible/morbid/depressing self and adding to my grief by bringing up all the _shittiest_ scenarios that could happen. Me being _chibified_ and thus, doubly more vulnerable than previously 20-year-old me was _not_ helping. Stranger Danger had never sounded more real.

After a long while, during which I could feel his eyes boring into me, I released my face and looked back. The stress was wearing down on me and I couldn’t quite summon the energy to fight his… whatever it was in me. I sat down in front of him and hugged my knees, staring back at him resignedly. He, in turn, raised his eyebrows in amusement and surprise.

“Okay,” I said glumly.

He smothered another smile behind his hand while the other came up to stroke my head.

“You remind me of a cat I used to know,” he mused, playing with my hair. “He had these big green eyes that’d look at you like they could read your mind and the softest fur I’d ever touched.”

I had no idea if my eyes had turned green or if my hair had become soft and fluffy, but I didn’t quite appreciate the comparison. And I certainly didn’t know what was on _his_ mind, poetic as he sounded. He laughed when he saw my face.

“You are too cute,” he snickered as he ran his hands through my hair again before scooping me up. I squeaked and clung to his neck to prevent myself from falling.

“Saaa, Chibi-chan,” he tweaked my nose and stood up, “Let’s go.” And he started walking.

I found myself too wrung out to care where we were going and simply pressed my face under his chin and fell asleep.

xXXx

I’d been asleep for less than 15 minutes when I was jolted awake. It wasn’t a hard jolt, actually rather tiny, but my mind was still at alert due to paranoia and hadn’t allowed my body to completely relax.

I restrained the urge to rub my eyes (and possibly mimic those cutesy chibi characters) and instead blinked hard once and shook my head. A few blobs came into view. I blinked a few more times.

When my sight (finally) sharpened, I stared.

We were surrounded by men in black suits.

_Oh noes, the men in black! Mook alert! Kidnapper alert! Yakuza! Mafia! Assassins! Thugs!_

As I continued to list out all the connotations of manga ‘men in black suits’, I twisted to look at Mr. Kidnapper (And wasn’t that the irony? I keep meeting kidnappers!) in order to gauge my current situation.

_...And what kind of situation does a poker face put me in? If he’s a kickass person, then he should look smug. If he’s a squishy, he’d look scared. If he was calm, then he has the situation at hand… but that’s not really a calm face… It’s not an ‘oh-shit-but-I’m-pretending-to-be-calm’ face either… It’s more… stony? Aargh! Why can’t you make things easier for me! I don’t even know what type of character you are!_

Giving him the stink-eye, I twisted back to survey our assailants instead.

_They’ve got the whole suit-n-sunglasses gig… does this make them professionals? Like… semi-competent or something? I never understood why people’d wear sunglasses when it’s not sunny… And the black suits too… But nevermind. This is manga-world (somehow…argh.) so we follow manga-logic._

_…_

_…_

_…Is there any visible difference between the **good** mooks and the **lousy** ones? Or is this situation the kind that could go either way? I only know that if their target was the non-fighter (or basically, cheerleader) they’d get kidnapped and used as hostage a lot. Or the sidekick. Though of course when they get ‘the power of frienship’ or ‘the power of love’ they’d power up and kick these mooks’ asses… If it was the main character, there’s no question of who would win, but I don’t recognize him… Well, this could be a manga I don’t know and he’s also technically ‘protecting’ me right now… Would that give him the ‘will to protect’? That would definitely ensure that we would come out top…unless this was one of those screw-with-your-head mangas and he dies protecting me while I swear vengeance… _

I turned again and tilted my head.

_Well, he looks bishounen enough to not be just cannon-fodder. But we can’t know for sure… there are plenty of manga filled with eye candy._

I drooped. Then sat up.

_Oh yeah! His hands were ‘fighter hands’. So that means he can fight! And the squinty-eyed characters never lose unless they fight the main characters or (in the case of Bleach) betray the Big Bad Villain. These guys are hardly the Big Bad, so there’s no problem!_

I wiped my forehead in relief. And jumped as my perch started to shake. I stared in puzzlement at my kidnapper as his shoulders shook in silent laughter. Taking a moment to regain control, he replied to my unasked question.

“You’re so funny! We’re in a dangerous situation, surrounded by thugs, and you’re just swiveling around gawking at them and me. And then you actually looked relieved!” He sniggered again before continuing, “I _can_ fight, but these were the guys I was running away from before, and now I have you to look out for… we’re not exactly in the best position, you know?”

My lips quivered.

_Whyyyyyy! Why you no follow manga-logic! You’re a squinty-eyed character!!! You’re supposed to be badass!!! Stop ruining my perception of mangaaaaaa!!!!_

At my desolate expression, he grinned (actually grinned!) at me.

The head Mook (who, true to traditional manga-fashion, was bald) had been silently watching our byplay, but now cut in impatiently. It was then that I had another shock of my life. He was speaking in _Japanese._

I nearly slapped myself from the stupid thought. _Of course he speaks Japanese. Unless I’ve landed myself in a Korean or Chinese manga, I’m almost certainly going to be in Japan!_

Well… therein lay the problem. I didn’t understand him at all. I only got “Kora! Yanagi-teme!” before everything became “blah blah blah desu” to me.

_Well hell. I get transported to another world and I don’t even get the “language translation” skill package. I want a refund damnit!_

However, being the very sharp and clever person that I am, I immediately inferred that Non-complying Manga Character’s name was Yanagi with the limited Japanese I knew.

_…Wait. Does that mean Creepy Guy’s been speaking to me in **English** all this time???_

“… _Omae wa Korosu!”_ Head-Mook-san ended dramatically, even shaking his fist in anger. That was one sentence that needed no darned translation.

I had a moment to marvel at the very manga-worthy Mook speech before we were inundated by men-in-black (of the not-so cool sort). Squeaking and just basically squealing in as high-pitched a voice as I could go, I clung onto Possible-Pedo— _Yanagi’s_ neck for dear life.

And suddenly, in a burst of movement, he lashed out with a leg, sending one guy flying into the crowd with a footprint on his face and flattening another five in the process. Whirling around through the human tsunami, he took down more people in a series of lightning fast palm strikes, forcibly creating a path out as he moved.

Someone yelled out something—probably orders—spurring the Mooks to mob rush him with reckless abandon, some even throwing themselves forward in flying tackles.

As the saying goes, too many cooks spoileth the broth-eth.

With so many people squished together, there was little to no room to maneuver. Most of them couldn’t pull their arms back enough to punch without elbowing someone else in the eye, and kicking without tripping was impossible. From there, it was more crowd-shoving then proper fighting, with copious use of pointy elbows and knees and stomping on any poor sod who managed to trip and spread their fingers within reach.

I hung on like a burr, tucking my head in to avoid getting bashed, sometimes kicking out when a face got too close. Some particularly innovative Mooks tried to grab me, only to get their hands chomped on. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was the hardness and sharpness of my (possibly milk) teeth. Several of the particularly loud yowls were caused by yours truly.

We finally got away from the main bulk and found ( _made_ ) enough space to break out into a run, chased by a few bedraggled thugs who managed to pick themselves out from the resulting dog pile. They were soon left in the dust as Yanagi ducked and weaved through alleys—just as he had done in the beginning.

Breathing heavily—more from excitement than exertion really—I took a moment to gather my wits.

_That fight was actually rather disappointing for members of a yakuza gang. There was no organization and plan of attack. They just threw themselves at us and hoped for the best. And they didn’t have any weapons either! Seriously, what kind of yakuza gang does that?_

“Pfft, bahahahahaha!” Yanagi burst out in laughter, making me realize that I had—yet again—spoken out loud.

_…Is this gonna be a trait of mine? Not being able to think without blurting what I’m thinking? Noooo I don’t wanna be an air-head like that!_

I had to wait a few more minutes for Yanagi to stop snickering (while burying his face in my shoulder) and calm down enough to speak. Even then, he still broke out in laughter occasionally.

“It’s true that most yakuza aren’t as pfft, _dumb_ as them, but you can’t really blame them. They’re just one of those wannabe gangs who aren’t actually _in_ the Yamazaki-gumi but want to join.” He grinned before adding, “That’s why I prefer to avoid them instead of killing them, but sadly, my face is rather well-known. Kind of unfortunate for a guy in my line of work.”

I had figured out that Yanagi was a fighter, but hearing the specifics made me wince. Obviously, he wasn’t a guy who just happened to have some skill in kicking ass, but a professional—one who made a living out of it and everything. Him telling me about his ‘line of work’ and talking about killing obviously meant that it was related and cemented the opinion that he wasn’t going to let me go any time soon. The teeny little hope I hadn’t even realized I’d held out all this while wilted and died a pathetic and miserably understated death.

I resisted the urge to pinch my nose. It seemed that fate was going to keep shoving me in the corner it wanted.

“Seriously, why’d you take me with you? In the first place, I’m a _kid_ and I can’t fight and you’re dangerous and people are after you and—” I slapped a hand on my mouth to avoid babbling further.

Apparently, hysteria had only been delayed.

I took several deep breaths, used a few moments to collect myself, and continued calmly, “and I don’t even _know you_ and you _kidnapped me and_ you could be a _pedophile_ and — ** _oh shit.”_**

This time I wrapped both hands over my mouth to stop the flood.  I could have slapped myself if I had a spare hand. It should have been obvious that I was not going to calm down anytime, with the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through my body. The constant saying-what-I-thought should have been an indication.

_Though that means I’m not turning into a spazzhead. That’s good news I guess._

The look on his face was priceless though.

“I am _not_ a **_pedophile_** _!!!_ ” he yelped/growled out, a cross between disgust and horror on his face. It looked like I’d finally cracked his veneer of (eerie) calmness. “You thought—well it’s understandable, but _still_ —a _pedophile_ —but I didn’t, I don’t… You were so cute and your hair—I was _not_ being creepy!” There was a look of dawning realization, as if he hadn’t understood just how suspiciously he had been acting.

I couldn’t help it—I broke out laughing. It was so _relieving_ that he wasn’t actually a pedophile (I hadn’t realized how real the fear I had was until then) and that he wasn’t as creepy as I thought. He might be a killer, but at least he was more the ‘morally-upright’ kind that didn’t kill children and/or was a creepy pervert.

_Oh my gosh, and here I thought my luck had killed itself when I came to this world. Thank heavens it’s still alive somehow!_

And then it was my turn to yelp as he pinched my cheeks in retaliation. He didn’t pinch as hard (my earlier message must have gotten through) and smiled as he did, so I figured he wasn’t really offended.

“Saaaa, guess you _can_ smile after all.” He said happily as he continued to abuse my cheeks.

I stuck out my tongue and retorted, “Well, if you didn’t _kidnap_ me from _the middle of the street_ I wouldn’t have worried so much about you being a creep!”

His hands fell as he gave me a thoroughly gobsmacked look, making me bite my lip. Then, laughter bubbled from his throat again. This time, he even held his sides and pitched over in glee, cackling.

When he had recovered enough breath to talk, he giggled, “I _knew_ you had a tongue on you! Especially after that… _outburst_ you had when I nearly ran into you. I never knew a little kid could swear so well—and in English too!”

_Well that confirms one hypothesis at least. I’m still an English speaker… Sigh… Guess that means I only know the languages I knew previously… which sort of includes Mandarin so I guess I’m not so bad off. Fat lot of good that’ll do here though…_

I flushed. I didn’t swear a lot, only when I was stressed, and the situation I had found myself in was _definitely_ stressful.

“Are you really gonna keep me? Coz, you know. I’m not actually sure I’d survive it.” I twiddled my thumbs as I spoke.

“But you’re not sure if you’d survive even if I left you alone right?” He pointed out, even as he snickered at my last remark. “You said you didn’t have anywhere to return to, and when I first saw you, you were just staring at your hand in the middle of the street. Plus, you’re a foreigner here and you don’t even know Japanese.”

“I was just… observing something!” I replied defensively, “I have no idea how I got here—wherever this is!”

“You’re in Domino City, kiddo,” he cracked a grin at me, “and I guess you’ll be in my care from now on~”

I stared.

_Domino City._

_Domino City._

**_Domino. City._ **

_I’m in fucking **Yu-Gi-Oh??!!!**_

xXXXx

After bemoaning the fact that I was in a show that was all about a _card game_ and was basically one overly dramatic “monster duel” after another, I tried to cheer myself up. The first good thing was that the geography of the world hadn’t changed—there was still America and Japan and all the other countries in between. The second was that as long as I stayed the fuck away from Yugi and his gang of merry trouble-magnets I would be perfectly fine.

…Well, fine from _those_ adventures at least. Sadly, it seemed that I had landed in hot soup of a non-Ancient-Egyptian-God-induced kind all by myself. And it was pretty crazy in its own kidnapped-by-possible-professional-assassin-and-fleeing-from-crazy-wannabe-yakuza-gang way. I never knew that there was an Underground in a world like Yu-Gi-Oh… Though Gozaburo and the Big Five were plenty of indication that corruption, at least, existed.

It wasn’t just the ‘crappy adventures’ that was a disappointment. Yu-Gi-Oh was a fad that had faded nearly 10 years ago and even at its peak I hadn’t been a big enough fan to watch all the episodes. Sure, I collected a few cards, but I didn’t hunt every single rare card down zealously nor did I have a specially bought card album with which to display them. They were all stuffed into the basic Yugi Starter Deck box my parents had gotten me as a Christmas present. Most of them didn’t even have those plastic card protector/holder thingies.

_Now that I think of it though, it was a pretty big shock when my first booster pack churned out Black Luster Soldier: Envoy of the Beginning. And then I found that Chaos Emperor Dragon: Envoy of the End just lying on the ground later on. All my friends wanted to kill me when they saw them. Too bad I never got around to collecting Chaos Sorcerer to round out the full set._

_Come to think of it, what rare cards did I have? I know I had a Ginzo and Dark Magician and I later traded in some cards for Dark Magician Girl but I don’t recall any others…_

_Hmmm… Guess that was all I had really. Meh, wasn’t all that great a deck and I lost more duels than I could count, especially with all those kids with **whole decks** full of rare cards. Fuck Exodia._

I crossed my arms in disgruntlement. I had been waaaay past the age of playing with monster cards when I was transported here. Having the clock turned back for me physically had not changed that. Shrugging, I settled back down.

Come to think of it, did I have _anything_ with me at all from this ‘dimension transfer’? Like, some money? A weapon? A piece of paper with some instructions on what I was supposed to do or at least a _reason_ why I’d suddenly found myself plucked from my world?

I searched my clothes vigorously. Huh. I hadn’t noticed that my ill-fitting pants had pockets. I dug through the left one.

And froze.

I took my hand out and facepalmed. I looked up at the ceiling pleadingly. _Please don’t tell me that is what I think it is._

My head ached for a wall. I eyed the one in front of me contemplatively, wondering how many bangs it would take before I would actually start comprehending the warped sense of this world.

_5…no 10 light ones? Or maybe 3 hard ones? Maybe if I got a mild concussion…_

Realizing that I was losing regular common sense of my own, I gave up and dug in my pocket again, fishing out 4 pieces of plasticky paper.

_Of all the--! Why is it that whatever god put me here didn’t see fit to give me Japanese, but thought that it was okay to give me my rare cards?_

I sighed in exasperation. Dark Magician, Dark Magician Girl, Black Luster Soldier: Envoy of the Beginning and Chaos Emperor Dragon: Envoy of the End stared back at me from my hand.

_…Where’s Ginzo??? It was a damn useful card! The ability to shut down traps…_

I slapped my face again, dragging it down in exasperation. It seemed like the universe was determined to keep shortchanging me. Not that the pieces of paper were going to help my current situation, but still... I sighed again, but returned them carefully. It was nice to own _something_ I guess. Hopefully there were more (useful) things.

A search through my right pocket turned up… a candy wrapper. Hacks, Honey & Lemon flavor. My favorite candy, but it was moot since it was just the. Fucking. _Wrapper._

_…_

I opened my mouth… then closed it. Closed my eyes, pinched my nose bridge, took a deep breath and blew it out gustily.

_…It is official. The universe is out to get me. I am resigned to my fate._

Resolving to never have any expectations of _anything_ in this world ever _ever_ again, I surveyed my surroundings and tossed the wrapper into a bin.

Yanagi had brought me to an apartment and was currently in the shower after he had extracted a promise from me not to poke around too much. From what I could see, there wasn’t much to look at anyways—it looked like any generic apartment and the décor was a la Sparta. There was a living room with a couch (in which I was currently sitting) with an attached kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom (which Yanagi was in)…. And a study?

_Have I ever mentioned that I have a very extreme sense of curiosity? I didn’t? Good. Because I don’t. I **know** what happens to people who look through stuff when they think no one is watching._

With all the chaos I’d suffered through, I was tired enough not to give a damn about anything but getting clean and some very much needed rest. My sleeve was covered in dried snot and I was feeling sweaty and sticky. My head was also beginning to throb a little from all that crying and screaming.

It looked like Yanagi wasn’t going to come out anytime soon, so I made myself comfortable, leaning back against the headrest.

_I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit… I’m seriously tired. He’ll probably call me up when he’s done… in just… a few… minutes…_

xXXx

Someone was tugging on my shirt. I twisted with a growl and kicked out, catching on something. A yelp and a thud, then blissful peace.

Only for a while.

Whoever it was wasn’t giving up. My shirt was tugged up and I kicked again, missing this time. A third try was attempted, but I growled dangerously and the hands quickly fell away. When it seemed like I’d driven them off, I relaxed again, only to realize that they’d simply switched tactics. This time, my pants were pulled off, making me jerk in shock.

I blinked frantically and stared at the face looming between my legs before shrieking and lashing out. Fortunately, my aim was true again this time—my foot landed squarely on the nose, sending it flying backwards and crashing against something. Scrambling to my feet and clutching my pants to my thundering chest, I backpedalled—into a wall. However, instead of flight, my brain had other pressing priorities which I struggled to obey at the frantic chanting in my head.

_Must put on pants, must put on pants._

As I hopped desperately on one leg, I kept a wary lookout on the groaning heap on the floor. A quick glance around revealed a metal briefcase leaning against the dining table. Tightening my belt as much as possible around my waist, I hurried over and attempted to lift it closer to my side.

_Oof! What’s in this damn thing! Rocks?!_

Impatient and just a little terrified, I scrabbled at the lock, giving a heartfelt thanks to whatever deity when it popped open—I didn’t even have to guess the combination—flinging the lid open and dumping whatever was inside on to the floor.

_Hurryhurryhurryhurrry!_

A quick look revealed something _even better_ than the metal case—a gun! Yes! I abandoned the case and grabbed the pistol in trembling hands. Swallowing slightly, I pointed it in front as I began to edge slowly towards Yanagi.

_Waitwaitwait!_

I paused. I was forgetting something. Something important.

_Gun. Gungungun. Gun—something—fire. Gun…_

**_Safety switch!_ **

My breath hitched, I brought the pistol up to my eyes quickly. My frenzied gaze found the tiny switch on the side and my fumbling fingers hurried to flip it. A red dot slid into the slot.

_Red means danger. Red means on right? Right? Right? Pleasepleaseplease let it be right!_

Heart hammering in my chest, I cocked the gun and peeped over the couch.

There was nobody there.

I swore and spun around, only to have the gun knocked out of my grasp. Shrieking at the top of my lungs, I jumped back to the table and overturned it, making sure that the top was between us. The metal case I had discarded gleamed and I hauled it over to use as a shield.

Silence.

I quivered under the case—both the bottom and the lid were big enough to cover my crouched form like a mini-tepee—sobbing and whimpering before I regained the presence of mind to _shut the hell up_ and bite my sleeve.

A sigh escaped from lips that were not mine from beyond the table top barricade. I squeezed my eyes close and bit down harder.

“Chibi-chan?” Yanagi spoke softly. He sounded sober, unlike his previous jocular tones. I longed to trust him, to trust that friendly voice, but…

_“You said you weren’t a pedophile!”_ I screamed across the room, trying to push down the bubbling hysteria. I hunched over even more, hugging my knees and counting my wavering breath.

His reply was indignant, “I’m not! I—”

“ _You were taking off my pants!”_

“Chibi-chan—“

_“No!”_

“Please just let me explain—“

_“NO!”_

“Calm down…”

_“No! Gowaygowaygowaygoway—!”_

I howled as I was scooped up. I kicked and flailed and bared my teeth, hissing and spitting in frenzy.

“CHIBI-CHAN! PLEASE CALM DOWN!” He pinned my arms to my side and yelled.

I squirmed and twisted as hard as I could, my mind wailing _nonononono_. I tried to kick, he pressed me on the floor and pushed his weight against my legs. I tried to head butt him, he shifted out of the way. I screamed and screamed and _screamed_ until my voice gave way with a resounding crack and my throat felt like it was being pierced by needles. I choked and coughed, but it didn’t stop until my head swam and I had to take several rasping breaths.

Only then did Yanagi speak. He didn’t let go, though.

“Chibi-chan,” he whispered into my ear, “calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I closed my eyes and trembled against him, but didn’t struggle. It was obvious that I wasn’t going to overpower him anytime soon. There was nothing I could do. Tears dripped onto the floor.

“Shhh…shhhh…” he murmured soothingly, slowly releasing my arms and easing his weight off me. I tried to curl but he lifted me into his lap, patting my head softly.

I swallowed, the action making me wince.

He snorted quietly, startling me, “Quite a clever little chibi-chan you are. Where did you learn about gun safety switches? Though I suppose it was my fault that the case was unlocked—but seriously, I didn’t expect a four? Five? Year old kid to know how to unlatch it, much less pick up the gun and _use_ it. And even then… safety switch. How the hell did you know to unlock it?”

My body was beginning to relax against my will. Perhaps it was the abuse I had heaped on it, perhaps it was just the limit of a child’s body, or even the soothing tone of voice. I bit my lip, telling myself to stay alert, but my mind was weary from the day’s events—I couldn’t bring myself to move even if he had placed the gun on my forehead.

“…and the idea of using the table _and_ the case as a cover—that was seriously smart thinking. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself—and all that under stress!”

I was _this close_ to passing out, but I couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ allow myself to. I licked my lips and forced out the most important question despite my utterly _wrecked_ throat.

“Wha- _at_ w- _hem_ … _were_ y-ouu try-ing t-t-t—“

“—to do?” he finished for me. When I nodded timidly, his lips quirked. Then he rolled his eyes. “Wellll, I wasn’t expecting so much trouble trying to give you a bath,” He muttered, eyeing the chaos I had left in my mad scramble for protection, “If you didn’t want to you could’ve just told me!”

I blinked owlishly at him, mouth slightly agape.

_A bath?_

And then I realized that I was in the body of a _child_. Or rather, the implications of that. Not the pedophiliac ones. The kids-don’t-know-how-to-bathe-themselves ones.

I flushed. The whole debacle was probably an indication of how high-strung I had been. And how little I trusted Yanagi. Not that I was ashamed of the latter.

But still… either way I’d have to be naked in front of him.

…My body didn’t even flinch—it was beyond caring about something that didn’t pose a danger to itself. My mind flipped a bird at the emotion called _shame_ , muttering _fack it, I’m too tired for this shit_ and rolled over.

And so I didn’t struggle this time when Yanagi began removing my clothes again. I _did_ watch him cautiously, but it was obvious that my undeveloped body held no attraction to him.

And then he reached over to tug my underwear off.

I stared.

All I could remember was a distant voice wailing _that’s not supposed to be there!_ before darkness swallowed me.

xXXx

I woke up feeling fresh as a daisy and well-rested. A welcome feeling from yesterday. And yes, I woke up with all senses as well as my memory intact—I’d had all my freak/faint-outs yesterday and my mind was satisfied.

If you haven’t realized—I’ve not only been chibified, but _transgendered._ I’m a boy now, and in proud possession of a weenie.

Okay, where’s the screaming and hair-pulling and ‘oh god WHY’s, you’re asking? Well, I _did_ faint when I discovered that particular news, but I have discovered that there _is_ a point, actually, that you experience so many shocks, that you become immune to it. Well, maybe not immune, but you tend to be rather blasé after a while.

Seriously, being a boy was probably the least of all the shocks I had experienced. All the worries I’d been carrying about kidnappings and pedophiles and dying completely overshadowed it. And I still haven’t exactly come to terms with being separated from my family so suddenly. Well… it isn’t so bad. We were a rather distant family, what with my mother travelling overseas for work so often, and my father always in the office—even on weekends. My brother was more a pain than anything. And I’m not just saying that to reassure myself. We hardly interacted and when we _did,_ it was explosive. We just couldn’t see eye to eye with _anything._

In any case, I was clean, I’d had a proper night’s rest, I was safe (enough) in the (admittedly rather dubious) care of Yanagi and I had established which manga world I had been dropped in and thus, where and _who_ to avoid.

After all, the Yu-Gi-Oh storyline was just fine. I had no complaints at all about how it ended (How _did_ it end actually?). I had absolutely zero intention to so much as tweak it—if I even _could_ with what little I remembered.

So.

With that out of the way, I could now focus on what I should do. Obviously, I had ended up in the care of someone with a rather…violent profession. Which…actually suited me just fine. I had picked up Karate in my teenage years _just_ for the sake of pummeling someone legally. And you wouldn’t believe how rough girl fights can get.

The killing part… could be dealt with later on. I think the episode with the gun can attest to my willingness to kill should my safety be put into question. Other conditions…debatable.

So here I am, twenty-year-old girl in a four-year-old boy’s body, in a world that I’d previously known to be a children’s TV show, and in the custody of a professional killer.

_Yay, me._


	2. Chapter 2

There isn’t much to talk about regarding my life with Yanagi. I mean, I had a roof over my head and occasionally he’d amuse himself by teaching me new things. Some of those were dangerous, some were dull, some were so normal that it seemed strange. There was a certain…detached amusement that he took in taking me in, much like the cat he had mentioned. He kept me fed and clothed, but he also disappeared for long periods of time only to return whistling and an “Oh, right, you’re still here.”

He wasn’t quite _negligent,_ given that I had proven myself to be somewhat self-sufficient. He gave me some cash each week for spending purposes. I’d learned to save up a portion in case he disappeared on me and the fridge ended up empty. I also learned how to make more than fried eggs and rice. Occasionally, Yanagi’d eat the food I’d made and then ‘reward’ me with either some more spending money, or a game, or a walk outside.

I wasn’t quite confident enough to leave the apartment further than the grocery store across the road. I also didn’t have a key, which meant that I had to leave the door unlocked whenever I left. It made me paranoid—who knew what could get in?!—and I didn’t bring it up with Yanagi because I had a feeling that it was privilege I would never get.

Although a more relaxed version of toe-tipping, but I was still very aware that there were certain things I would be allowed. An apartment key being one of them. Access to certain rooms being another. The TV remote while Yanagi was home.

The entire thing could be summed up into one rule: As long as I was an easy pet to keep, he’d keep me.

Otherwise, he’d have to dispose of me and there was only one way that would end.

Yanagi had a certain fondness for me, that was true. He tolerated some things that he wouldn’t in another person, though perhaps not as much as if I were a real cat. But he still held the power, and he had no qualms in exercising it. I did my best to learn the unspoken rules of being a kept pet, and he indulged some of my curiosity and wilfulness. I learned that he would make an exception only once, and thus never repeated any mistakes.

Now that I think about it, perhaps I have to thank him for that habit.

He liked to watch me learn and grow, he liked that I was cleverer than the average child. He liked that I occasionally sassed him and wasn’t outwardly afraid of him. Later on, he liked that the fear had tapered into wariness and caution. He liked it when I replied in creative ways when he asked questions like “How would you kill this man?” and rewarded me with knowledge on how to _really_ kill that man. He was quietly frightening, and played the sheep very well.

Also, he liked to play Duel Monsters.

If there was something I can say about Yanagi for sure, it is that he had a passion for Duel Monsters that outstripped a very great majority of people. He loved the game and loved the different cards and his favourite was trap cards that pulled the rug from under people just when they thought they were going to win. He also had many ‘troll’ cards that frustrated people, like flip effect monsters that returned cards to their hand once they had tribute two or three monsters to summon their biggest damage dealer. His deck was an exasperating mix of effect monsters and trap cards with only one or two high powered monsters. In fact, he won many duels simply through effect damage. Or pissing the opponent off so much they rage quit.

The first time we played, he was delighted to learn that I knew the game. I didn’t have a deck—only a mere 4 cards I wasn’t even sure were created yet—but he provided an entire _shelf_ of cards for me to construct one with, and then he’d wiped the floor with me. He didn’t really go for rare cards like most people did, although by dint of being in the game so early, he had plenty of those. He liked the challenge of figuring out how to work with what he had at hand, something he was delighted to find that I shared.

So I suppose that was another perk, although both of us knew that I wouldn’t have be that into Duel Monsters if he hadn’t been. It was part survival instinct and part infectious enthusiasm I suppose. Though I can safely say that Yanagi is fair enough in that he’s not the type to get pissed just because he lost.

Not that I won that often.

When it came to buying cards, he was so generous as to be excessive. Compared to my living stipend, the amount he was willing to spend to buy me booster packs was _ridiculous._

But when you’re not the one with the power, you don’t really have much say. So I sucked it up and plunged myself deeper into the world of Duel Monsters, to ignore the reality of living like a pampered pet.

Well. I suppose I should be thankful he liked _cats,_ instead of dogs. Dog owners always prefer theirs trained.

xXXx

I won’t say that life was particularly hard, though there were the occasional hiccups and terror-inducing pitfalls. I was a clumsy, curious and stubborn person. I was curious about the world, a hazard to myself around furniture, and determined enough to fall over a dozen times to get what I wanted.

There had to be some difference between this world and mine, seeing as technology was far more advanced that it was back home.

So I read. (And got hit by more books than I cared to count)

Before anybody starts rolling their eyes, I must first admit that I’m a bookworm. Or I was. Whatever—the current child-me still is. But I only pursued particular genres, the topmost being fantasy and fiction. So when I started to pick up history books, I slightly amazed myself at my interest.

Anyway. (Don’t even get me started on reading IT books and other ‘How to Dummies’.)

The world of YGO is some five hundred years ahead of mine, even if the number of years were around the same. The year 1996 is like 2496, or at least, what I imagine of it. Plenty of headway had been made in the research of just about anything. Neurology and brain development had been detailed down to an art, and one of the biggest changes was in how that affected the gaming industry.

Gone were the sneers at gamers and other ‘geek freaks’, gone was the frowned upon notion that gaming was bad for kids. Instead, gaming companies had R&D departments dedicated to the research of brain development and new games came with neuro-stamps much like the nutrition facts label on packaged food. Games were now marketed with the development they contributed to certain regions of the brain, each genre claiming XX% of improvement in XX regions.

Now, parents shopped for games the way they shopped for children’s books. With care and much research. Internet search engines had become far more advanced, with simple AI that could narrow down websites to fit your needs without the hassle of manual filters. Voice control was a commodity that had been refined to near perfection, and even the most basic phone had it.

And that was just a small part of technology.

Bioengineering had long reached a certain point of progress that cosmetic changes to your DNA were now available. Multi-coloured hair that lasted generations was obtainable through a minor cosmetic ‘surgery’ that fused parts of your DNA strands with that of the respectively coloured creature. Even my silver hair and bright green eyes weren’t fully human. To my shock, I am part Egyptian Mau and part _Aporia crataegi._ At night, if one looked closely, my green eyes glowed a little and the iris expanded far more than a regular human’s. Which means that I have some dark vision.

I guess Yanagi hit the mark somewhat on me being a cat.

But so far such drastic cosmetic changes had not truly gained traction, as it was still a world where people didn’t dabble too much in their DNA just for the sake of aesthetics. But acceptance of this practice was progressing…which I didn’t quite want to think about. However, such surgeries were quite pricy, even if they weren’t ‘frivolous billionaire’ levels of priciness, so hopefully this practice won’t be that popular until much later.

I’m also ignoring the bit that I’m not quite human thanks. It’s just not worth it to bait the universe lest I get screwed over even more.

xXXx

When I had turned a certain number of years and exhausted most of the public books available in the library, Yanagi enrolled me into a school. No, I did not get a key, but I did get something like a side door into the apartment—pretty much a human version of a cat flap. A mechanical alarm with an iris scan had been attached to the door, which allowed me access to the lock/unlock feature at specific times. Namely when I returned from school.

I won’t bore you with the huge hassle that we had adjusting the timing due to the ridiculous notion that Yanagi had that I could teleport the moment school ended. But yes. I had a curfew, and I’d gotten locked out plenty of times. It’s not funny, particularly since Yanagi’s Control Freak would rear its head whenever he discovered me. He’s lax about a lot of things, but not this one. Then, he turns on interrogation mode and questions me endlessly about where I’d been and why I hadn’t made it on time before he’ll allow me in. But the good part is that he never punishes me by leaving me outside, so I guess he does have a soft spot for me, even if he does treat me like a pet.

But back to school. I thought that I would have it easy and smooth-sailing but. YGO is _five hundred years_ ahead of us. Middle School curriculum was now Elementary school, and vice versa. I was getting quite stumped, particularly in the area of science. Quite a few things had been discovered, and several ‘laws’ reversed.

(Please don’t ask me what happened to Newton.)

I think it took me several months before I snapped out of the shock, finally getting into my head that perhaps this was a bigger challenge than I thought. I lagged behind most of the class until my adult-pride reared its head and I begged Yanagi to let me camp in the public library for several days. Surprisingly, he was rather fine with that. The only thing I had to concede to was being collared with a tracking chip.

…Okay, so I’m getting rather used to the pet thing.

Anyway, school isn’t very fun, and I’m still learning new things. Fortunately, I don’t think I’ll ever be working legitimately, seeing as I have no ID and Yanagi didn’t really bother to get me one.

So. That’s life in the YGO world I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it looks like this OC is both lucky and unlucky in her draw. Hmmm...maybe she should make a balanced deck. Either way, it's a good thing that she's alive at least?


End file.
